The second the door had closed behind Harper she’d started sobbing. To Celeste’s credit it had only taken her about thirty seconds to go from asleep to fully aware of the situation. It was well into the morning before Harper had stopped sobbing. By the time she’d gotten a hold of herself she’d been desperate to get out of Nashville, needing to put as much distance between her and Liam as possible. If she didn’t, she probably would’ve found herself on his doorstep again.
And that could not happen.
Celeste was the only one who knew what had happened with Liam. All of her friends and family were under the impression that her current state of mind still had to do with Brad.
They were all incredibly wrong.
She’d been forcing herself to function over the last few weeks, thinking it was going to get better. Turned out she was just biding her time, denial her greatest friend.
She’d ignored the fact that her period had been late…one week running into two and then turning into three. And then the morning sickness had set in two weeks ago.
Morning her ass.
She was nauseous all the freaking time. She’d kept telling herself that she was coming down with something.
See, denial.
But the proof was sitting on the counter behind her. This was the third morning in a row that she’d looked at those positives. There was no more hiding. Reality had just caught up to her.
The corner of her eyes prickled, that familiar constricting sensation taking over her throat.
You are not going to cry.
You are not going to cry.
You. Are. Not. Going. To. Cry.
These were your decisions. You went home with him. You slept with him…half a dozen times. You got pregnant.
She closed her eyes, taking deep steady breaths through her nose, trying to calm down her now rolling stomach. Or stop the steady stream of tears tracking down her face.
Neither of them went away. So she just sat there and continued to pet Luna.
These were your decisions. You cannot go back and change things. This is how it is. How it is going to be.
Deal with it.
And deal with it she would…just as soon as she got off the floor.
* * *
The ohhhs and awes that emanated from the circle of women around Harper were beginning to get to her. But really what else did she expect? She was at a joint baby shower for two of her friends.
About thirty women were stuffed into the front room of Café Lula, munching on finger foods and drinking punch. The little eatery, with its variety of bright colors scattered about here and there, was closed on Sundays, so the party had free rein.
Harper closed her eyes and took a deep, fortifying breath when another round of awes resonated around the circle. It turned out to not be the best idea as her mother—who was currently sitting next to her—bit into an egg salad sandwich.
Eggs were currently enemy number one on Harper’s not-so-friendly food list. The smell. The taste. The general thought of them. But as her mother was currently on her not-so-friendly in general list, she wasn’t too shocked.
Delilah Laurence didn’t always think before she spoke…or before she acted. And yes, Harper completely and entirely understood that mothers could be critical of their children—daughters especially—but Delilah took it to a whole other level.
She hadn’t held back any of the jabs of late. But she never held back. Ever.
Harper hadn’t even been at the shower five minutes when Delilah had cornered her and started in. As she hadn’t really been eating the last couple of weeks, and her appetite had been pretty limited even before the morning sickness had kicked in, she’d lost a few pounds. The dress she’d picked out for that afternoon was a size smaller than she’d been wearing, and one that she hadn’t fit into for a couple of years.
“I might not agree with this breakup of yours,” her mother had said, giving Harper the ever-critical Delilah once-over. “But it does have its benefits. You look skinnier.”
Wellllll, that was all about to change now, wasn’t it?
No sooner had the jab from earlier crossed Harper’s mind, when her mother leaned over and whispered, “It’s a good thing you have so many friends with children, now you won’t feel like you’re missing out.”
Yup. Delilah was in for a surprise. Harper wondered if she could just wait until after the baby was born, and have the baby tell her mother the news.
Guess what? You’re a grandmother!
Yeah, probably not.
Well, at least part of Delilah’s statement was true. Hannah Shepherd and Paige King were both very much pregnant. Hannah was due in mid-October, Paige toward the end of September. Though the odds that Paige lasted that long were a little slim because she was carrying twin girls, her baby bump was quite a bit bigger than Hannah’s.
The stack of baby supplies on either side of the women was growing considerably. As Hannah was having a little boy, hers was dominantly green and blue. Paige’s was filled with pinks and yellows.
Paige and her husband Brendan already had a little boy, Trevor, who’d just turned two last month. He was currently helping his mother rip the paper off of her gifts and giving Hannah assistance with her presents as well.
Paige and Hannah had quickly become two of Harper’s closest friends when they moved to Mirabelle, but the positions of best friends were and would always be reserved by Grace King—now Grace Anderson—and Melanie O’Bryan—now Melanie Hart. Grace and Mel had known each other pretty much since birth. When they’d met Harper on the first day of sixth grade almost fifteen years ago, she’d been quickly added to the fold.
Neither of them knew what was currently going on with Harper. Not talking to them about it over the last few weeks had been nothing short of painful. But Harper couldn’t talk about it. She wasn’t ready yet. Because if she said the words to someone else, everything would be really real.
Oh look, there was that denial again.
But her denial wasn’t the only reason she wasn’t talking. No, the other part was the jealously that she just couldn’t get over, and the subsequent guilt that accompanied said jealousy.
Grace and her husband Jax had welcomed their daughter Rosie Mae into the world last September, and Mel and Bennett were now embarking on starting a family of their own. They were in the trying phase and enjoying every aspect of it.
Harper was happy for them, really she was.
It was just hard.
How could it not be? She was single…alone…and now very much pregnant. While all of her closest friends were married to men who loved them. Men who adored them. Men who would move mountains for them.
None of them was doing it alone.
At that exact moment someone who immediately had Harper amending her previous statement filled the empty seat to her right.
Almost all of her friends were married to men who loved them and weren’t raising children all by themselves. Beth Boone was the exception. And her situation was way more complicated than Harper’s would ever be.
Beth had been a couple of years ahead of Harper, Grace, and Mel when they were in high school and they’d all been friends. When Beth had graduated, she went up to Tallahassee for college. She and Mel had been roommates for a couple of years when their time in school overlapped, and they were incredibly close.
For more than a decade, Beth’s older sister and brother-in-law—Colleen and Kevin Ross—had been next-door neighbors to Mel’s parents. Mel’s little brother, Hamilton, was best friends with the Rosses’ oldest daughter, Nora. The two kids had grown up together, running back and forth across the front yard.
Two months ago, Kevin and Colleen had died in a car accident. They’d both been killed on impact. Beth moved back to Mirabelle and was now the sole guardian and new parent to her sister’s three kids: Nora, sixteen; Grant, seven; and Penny, three.
How was that for some perspective?
Penny was currently curled up in Beth’s lap, her little h
ead resting on Beth’s shoulder while she sucked her thumb and observed the room through her wide, mossy green eyes. The pair could easily be mistaken as mother and daughter as they both had the exact same shade of blond hair, though Beth’s eyes were a light blue.
“Would you judge me if I packed up some of that food over there and took it home in to-go containers?” Beth whispered conspiratorially. “Cucumber sandwiches and raw vegetables are an acceptable dinner for three children, right?”
The circumstances sucked for Beth returning to Mirabelle, but Harper truly had missed her friend.
“I mean I wouldn’t.” Harper shook her head. “But there’s no guarantees to some of the other guests.”
“What are you talking about?” Beth gasped in mock shock. “No one here has a single judgmental bone in their bodies.”
Penny pulled her thumb out of her mouth and stretched up to Beth’s ear. Harper could just make out the word potty in Penny’s little voice.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t let anyone take my seat.”
Harper nodded, and as she watched them walk away she couldn’t help but be in awe of her friend. Beth had been thrown into the deep end and she was handling things remarkably well. In the scheme of things, Harper was treading water in the shallow end.
Barely keeping her head up from drowning.
And as if on cue, like she sensed the moment to strike, Delilah leaned over and said, “It’s a shame things didn’t work out with Brad; you would’ve made beautiful babies. Though hopefully they would’ve had his metabolism.”
Harper was getting to the point where she didn’t visibly cringe when Brad’s name was said. They were now starting in on month five of him being gone, and it was no secret to anyone that Delilah partially blamed Harper for the demise of the relationship. It was also no secret that Delilah was still holding out hope that he’d come back.
She’d told her mother more times than she could count to let that pipe dream go, but it hadn’t happened yet.
Harper closed her eyes and took another deep breath, reminding herself that she loved her mother. Really she did. But sometimes the woman tried every ounce of her patience. Today was no different. But she could get through this. She had to get through this. And really this was just the calm before the storm when it came to what was going to happen. Because when the truth came out, all hell was going to break loose.
So Harper went back to protocol number one in regards to Delilah Laurence: she locked her jaw tight and stared straight ahead, counting down to her escape.
Thirty-two minutes, twenty-nine seconds…
Twenty-eight seconds…
Twenty-seven seconds…
She looked across the circle of chairs to find Mel’s amber eyes on her, eyes that very rarely missed anything. You okay? She mouthed.
Harper nodded. Twenty-five seconds…
Twenty-four seconds…
You sure?
Harper nodded again, forcing a smile that just made Mel’s eyes narrow. She turned away from the speculative gaze of her friend just in time to catch Hannah stick a massive pink bow on the top of Trevor’s head.
Twenty-three seconds…
Twenty-two seconds…
Trevor ran over to his aunt Grace who was bouncing Rosie Mae on her knee. Rosie was nine months old and giggling up a storm as she watched everything going on around her. Her strawberry blond hair, a gift from her redheaded father Jax, was held back with a green headband.
Twenty-one seconds…
Twenty seconds…
Trevor took the bow off his head and put it on his cousin’s before he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, causing another collective aww from around the circle.
Nineteen seconds…
Yeah, she could get through this. She would get through this.
The countdown continued in her head for the next half hour, and she kept up with her steady breathing all the way through the rest of the shower. She stayed strong when she said good-bye to her mother, not flinching under the final Delilah once-over.
Must. Not. Show. Weakness.
Because any sign would be spotted and latched on to.
But Harper’s downfall was when she was helping clean up. She went to throw something in the trash and a plate of half-eaten food was sitting on top. The second she lifted the lid, the scent of fried chicken mixed with that pungent smell of eggs hit her like a punch to the face…or to the stomach. Really it was all things poultry that were enemy number one on the not-so-friendly list.
She got to the bathroom just in time, dropping to her knees and ridding herself of the tiny cup of fruit and few crackers she’d managed to eat earlier. Her stomach cramped painfully, apparently hell bent on proving to her just what was going to happen if she continued to try to put anything in it.
Her skin broke out into a sweat, her eyes watered, and her head pounded. It took her a minute to catch her breath, but the disorienting ringing in her ears was going full force. Her head spun as she stood up, forcing her to grab on to the wall for balance. She stood there for a couple of seconds, holding on to the wall as she attempted to pull herself together.
It took a lot longer than she’d imagined.
When she got her breathing under control she cleaned herself up as much as she could in the tiny stall, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. What she really wanted was to rinse her mouth with water.
Well, if she was being honest, what she’d really like was to drink some water, but she wasn’t all that sure if her stomach would be kind enough for even that at the moment.
She opened the door and took one step before she registered that she wasn’t alone. She stopped dead in her tracks as she spotted Mel and Grace who were both leaning against the counter, their arms folded across their chests and their eyes focused on her.
“So are you going to start talking?” Mel spoke first.
“Or are we going to have to force it out of you?” Grace finished.
Now Harper wasn’t much for losing her shit. Really, she was more the suffer-in-silence type. But as she looked at her two best friends everything hit her. The sob that broke out of her mouth a second later was one she couldn’t hold back any longer. The two women converged on her, wrapping her up in their arms as she lost it.
“We’re here, Harp,” Mel whispered as she rubbed her hand up and down Harper’s back.
“Always will be,” Grace said.
When Harper managed to somewhat rein herself back in, she pulled away from their embrace.
Grace reached behind her and grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter. “Please tell us what’s going on.”
“Yeah. Is it Brad?” Mel asked.
Harper took the tissue, shaking her head. “No. It’s something else…someone else.”
“Someone?”
“When…what?” Grace’s eyebrows bunched in confusion.
Harper didn’t have a chance to answer either of her friends’ questions when the bathroom door opened.
Abby Fields walked in, a streak of green icing on her cheek and bits of cake in her auburn hair. Abby was Paige’s best friend—had been since both women were five years old—and was now an honorary member of the close-knit girls in Mirabelle. She was actually a recent transplant to Florida herself, though she lived about three and a half hours east in Jacksonville.
The woman was busy, there was no doubt. She was about two months into her new job running the PR department for St. Ignatius, one of the top hospitals in the south and her new official relationship with a now Stanley Cup winner Logan James. The Stampede had just won two days ago, but Abby had taken a break from the celebrations to come to the shower.
Abby took in the scene in front of her, her steps faltering as she walked into the bathroom. “Trevor discovered the cake table,” she explained.
“Ahh,” all three women said as they took a step back from the sinks to make room.
Grace excused herself to one of the stalls, while Harper washed her hands and Mel fiddled wit
h her short blond curls in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.
Abby made quick work at the sink, cleaning herself up and unsnapping her purse to pull out her compact. She touched up her makeup before she turned to Harper, a bottle of eyedrops in her hand. “Allergies sure have been a bitch this year.”
“Thanks.” Harper managed a watery smile as she grabbed the bottle.
“No problem. And keep it.” Abby nodded to the bottle before she reached out, touching Harper’s hand lightly, and then headed out of the bathroom.
Harper tilted her head back and put a few drops into each eye, grabbing another tissue and dabbing at the new stream of moisture on her face.
“Okay,” Grace said as she came out of the bathroom stall and started washing her hands in the sink. “Start talking.”
“Can we not do this here? Please?” Harper shook her head, doing everything in her power to hold back the fresh wave of tears that threatened.
She knew she needed to tell them. That she actually wanted to tell them. To talk to her best friends and tell them everything that was going on. She just didn’t want it to be in a bathroom where anyone that was still there cleaning up could walk in on the conversation. She was under no delusions that she’d be able to keep it together when she told Mel and Grace everything.
None.
“Your reprieve is only going to last as long as it takes for everyone to leave.” The severe look on Mel’s face brokered no argument.
“Yup, as soon as everyone clears out we are having ourselves a little conversation. Got it?”
“Got it.” Harper nodded, taking a deep breath to fortify herself.
The truth was definitely about to will out…and very, very soon.
* * *
Grace had kept her word. There was no dilly-dallying in storytelling. As soon as the last person was out the door, she flipped the lock and pulled Harper and Mel into the back of the café. She was able to do this as she was part owner of said café. Her grandmother, Lula Mae King, had opened it years ago, and Grace was now in charge of all the baked goods.
Unsung Page 7